Page 83 of Shattered Hate

As the judge’s gavel strikes, finalizing Marley’s fate, life with no parole, a collective exhale ripples through our group. It’s over, but the weight of what’s happened still presses down on us all.

Bray’s grip on my hand tightens, and I turn to see tears streaming down his face. Without a word, I pull him into a hug, feeling his body shake with silent sobs. Over his shoulder, I catch Bohdi’s eye on the other side of him. He nods, understanding passing between us. We’ve all lost so much, but we’ve gained each other.

As we file out of the courtroom, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Cope, his usually stoic face etched with concern. “You okay?” he asks, his gruff voice softening.

I nod, managing a small smile. “I will be,” I reply. “I think I’m just processing it all.” I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “It’s strange, you know? Part of me feels relieved, but another part…”

“Feels conflicted,” Kal finishes for me gently. I nod, grateful for his understanding.

As we leave the courtroom, the noise of the world rushes back in. Reporters request statements, their cameras flashing. Tray and Cope form a protective barrier around me, shielding me from the onslaught of questions.

Outside, the crisp air fills my lungs. I pause on the courthouse steps, looking out at the city sprawled before us. It’s the same place I’ve always known, yet everything feels different now. The familiar streets and buildings hold new meaning, each corner a reminder of how much has changed.

“You want to grab some food?” Bray asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “I could use a burger right about now.”

The idea of normalcy, of sitting in a diner with my friends after everything we’ve been through, is both comforting and surreal. I nod, managing a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

As we walk to Cope’s truck, I feel Tray’s hand slip into mine. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence is a steady comfort. The others fall into step around us, their chatter a soothing background noise. I turn around, looking at everyone.

“No Bohdi?” I question Tray. Tray shakes his head.

“He wanted to give Bray some time with us.” I nod in understanding.

At the diner, we squeeze into a large booth. The vinyl seats squeak as we settle in, and the smell of coffee and grilled onions fills the air. For a moment, it almost feels like any other day—like we’re just a group of friends hanging out after school. But the weight of everything that’s happened hangs over us, an invisible cloud at our table.

Kal slides in next to me, his tall frame almost filling the entire length of the booth. His presence is reassuring as he leans in. “You know,” he murmurs, “it’s okay if you’re not okay. We’reall here for you.” His sincerity wraps around me like a warm blanket.

I manage a small smile, looking up at his kind eyes. My head bobs in acknowledgment. “I know. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about my dad. And Marley.” My gaze drifts across the table to meet Brayden’s eyes, which mirror my sadness. “About Bex.” I feel a tear escape and trail down my cheek. “How different things could have been if…” My voice trails off, but my unspoken words hang heavy in the air.

Under the table, Tray’s hand finds mine, his thumb moving in slow, soothing circles over my palm. It’s a small gesture, but it anchors me. Brayden breaks the silence, his voice unexpectedly firm. “We shouldn’t be here,” he states, and I release a breath of relief, hoping he’s about to echo what I’ve been wanting to do since we left the courthouse.

The cemetery is quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. We stand in a semicircle around Bex’s grave, the fresh flowers and trinkets left by previous visitors still here. It seems that Bohdi frequently visits this place due to his own guilt. Guilt has a way of gnawing at people, and according to Brayden’s recent comments, it’s prodded at Bohdi quite a bit. He felt there was more he could have done, which seems absurd because he was incredible. After the fire, many things came to light, especially when Brayden saw his mom for the first time that day. Bohdi had been visiting her, providing meals, and cleaning up after her. He felt he owed it to Bex. Bohdi wanted to help Bexley, wanted to save him just as much as we all did. But after hearing last year from Bexley what went down between him and Bohdi, I don’t think Bohdi ever truly forgave himself and hates the fact he never got the chance to help Bex. Because he would have. He’s a good person like that. Initially, Brayden didn’t take it well, annoyed by the fact that Bohdi was doing it behind his back. Yet, over time, he seemed to come around, understandingthat Bohdi’s actions were for Bex’s sake. There’s a lot of wrong she has done, yet she’s tangled up in this mess, just like Bex was.

She’s an addict, just as Bex had been.

Brayden kneels, carefully placing the peanut butter cup on the headstone. His fingers linger on the cold marble, tracing the etched letters of his brother’s name. “We did it, Bex,” he says softly, thick with emotion. “We got justice for you.”

I feel Tray’s arm tighten around my waist, supporting me as I step forward. My hand shakes slightly as I lay a single white rose next to the candy. “I wish you were here,” I whisper, my words carried away by the wind. “You’d know exactly what to say to make sense of all this.” A comfortable silence settles over our group as we stand there, lost in our own thoughts and memories of Bex. The winter breeze rustles the nearby trees, scattering golden leaves across the graveyard. It feels peaceful here, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the past months.

Cope clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Bex would be proud of all of you. The way you’ve stuck together, looked out for each other. That’s what he always wanted.”

Kal nods in agreement. “He brought us together, and now we’re family. That’s his legacy.”

I feel tears prick at my eyes again, but this time they’re not entirely from sadness. There’s gratitude there, too, and a bittersweet joy. Bray reaches out an arm, pulling me into a side hug. I lean into him, drawing comfort from his familiar presence.

“You know,” Bray says softly. “Bex always said you were the strongest person he knew. Even when you didn’t believe it yourself.”

I swallow hard, remembering all the times Bex had encouraged me, pushed me to see my own worth. “He saw the best in everyone,” I murmur.

“Especially you,” Tray adds gently. We stand there for a while longer, sharing stories and memories of Bex. Laughter mingles with tears as we remember his jokes, his kindness, the way he could light up a room just by walking in. It feels good to talk about him like this, to celebrate his life rather than mourn his loss. As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the graveyard, I feel a sense of peace settling over me.

“We should probably head back,” Cope says eventually, glancing at his watch. “It’s getting late.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, none of us wanting to leave just yet. But slowly, we begin to gather ourselves, preparing to go. As the others start walking in the direction of the trucks, I linger for a moment longer.

“I’ll catch up,” I tell Tray, who nods his understanding and gives my hand a squeeze before following the others.

Alone now, I crouch down by Bex’s headstone. My fingers trace the cool marble, feeling the indentations of his name. “I miss you,” I whisper. “But I promise I’ll keep living, keep fighting. For you, for all of us.” I stand up slowly, taking a deep breath. The setting sun paints the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks, a beautiful backdrop to this bittersweet moment. As I turn to leave, a gentle breeze rustles through the nearby trees, and for a fleeting second, I could swear I hear Bex’s laughter carried on the wind.

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